Expectations
by Browncoat214
Summary: When Irene Adler pops unexpectedly back into Holmes' life she's not alone.
1. Surprised

**A/N I own nothing.**

**This is just a little something I started. Enjoy! :) **

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Holmes was woken from his pleasant sleep by a frantic hammering at the door of the flat. Groaning he rolled over, burying his head in his pillow, his eyes screwing shut, counting on Watson to answer the door. Another five minutes of battering finally convinced Holmes that Watson could not be relied upon even for this simple task and to answer the door himself. He pulled the covers off himself reluctantly, the cold being a little extra encouragement to begin moving. Rubbing his eyes, he shuffled to the end of his bed as the beating continued. "I am coming!" he shouted over the din, his voice hoarse with his first words of the day. He loped down the stairs, still half asleep, the beating becoming louder as he came closer to it.

"Misses Hudson! Would you stop that infernal…!" Holmes stopped dead as he opened the door. "Miss Adler," he blinked in surprise, "Good morning."

She raised an eyebrow, her arms folding across her stomach. "Good AFTERNOON Sherlock," she replied, "did no one ever tell you its rude to keep a lady waiting?" She placed her hands on her hips and Holmes couldn't help but stare at her, "or do you just have no manners? I wouldn't be surprised."

"Miss Adler…?" was all Holmes could manage to blurt out, his mouth forgotten, agape.

"And staring now?" She rolled her eyes as she pushed past his paralysed form.

"Miss Adler?" he asked out to her again, turning to face her when he was finally able to move again, "are you…" he took a deep breath and began again, "Miss Adler, are you… pregnant?"

She turned to glare at him as she made her way down the narrow corridor. "No shit, Sherlock."


	2. Betrayed

**A/N Ooh its about to get a little angsty in 221!  
Thank you all those who reviewed!**

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Holmes' already light complexion paled slightly as he gaped at her again a hint of panic in his eyes. "Irene, I wasn't… I mean I'm not…?"

"The father?" She let out a tinkling laugh. "God no, Sherlock."

She called out for Watson and a devilish grin spread across Holmes' face, "He didn't!" Irene arched an eyebrow again as they both raised their eyes to stare at Watson as he began to descend the stairs.

"I didn't what?" Watson looked down in confusion, only able to see Holmes.

"Oh yeah," Irene answered, her words loaded with sarcasm, "he's a real beast."

"Ah, Miss Adler," Watson greeted her on recognition of her voice, not wishing to know the previous topic between her and Holmes, "how have you been?"

"Well, thank you doctor," she replied, giving Holmes a wicked smile, knowing what was coming next.

"And how is your… condition?" Watson replied perfectly calmly as he descended the stairs.

"He knows," she stated simply, gazing intently at Holmes, gauging his reaction.

"Oh… well then…" He looked at the floor, guiltily, to avoid Holmes' scorning eyes as he rounded the bottom of the banister. Raising them again he looked at Irene. "Let me look at you."

Irene took her protective hands away from the gentle curve of her abdomen to let the doctor see. Watson crouched in front of her leaving nothing between Irene and Holmes' fuming face. She smiled as Holmes slowly carved two holes in the back of Watson's skull with a glare that she knew could kill.

"So you knew then?" Holmes' voice was very nearly controlled, the rage in his face however…

"Yes I knew," Watson sighed, "I've been her attending since this happened."

"And you never told me!" What little control Holmes had, snapped.

Watson rolled his eyes while Holmes couldn't see his face, "She's a patient, Holmes. Confidentiality…"

"She's just a patient! I'm your associate, your best friend!"

Watson rolled his eyes again. "This is nothing to do with you!" he snapped getting to his feet and turning to meet Holmes' glare with his own. There was silence throughout 221 Baker Street for a few seconds before Holmes stormed up the stairs, into his room and bolted the door. Moments later the gunshots began.

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**A/N Please keep those reviews coming and if you have any ideas I welcome them! ;)**


	3. Infuriated

**A/N ooh another chapter! I hope it was worth the wait :)**

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"Holmes?" Watson called out over the loud gunshots and the crashes of moving furniture. "Holmes!" He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the room of the childish Sherlock Holmes. "I am coming in so you'd better stop shooting, Holmes!" Obviously Holmes was ignoring him as three more gunshots rang out before silence fell over the house. Irene looked worriedly up the stairs, Watson looked back down at her and she nodded, urging him forward into the room with Holmes and his gun. "Holmes, I'm coming in." Watson opened the door cautiously. The air was thick with gunpowder and dust and goodness knows what else. Holmes sat in an armchair by one of the many cluttered surfaces in the study, reloading. "Holmes." Watson sighed.

Holmes snapped his revolver closed, not looking at Watson.

"Holmes you can't just ignore me."

"I don't intend to." Holmes pulled back the hammer.

"Holmes, give me your gun."

"But I need it, I'm quite…" Holmes protested.

"Now."

"You betrayed me, why should I trust…"

"HOLMES!"

Holmes finally looked up from his gun and gave Watson a surprised look, almost as if he thought the doctor had no reason to be angry, before the emotion faded to a mild interest as he calculated how angry Watson was, memorizing every aspect of his face indicating his rage and placed the expression on his mental scale, calculating how much further he could push Watson. His gaze then fled to the opposing wall and he let his revolver drop between his fingertips. Watson lurched forward, falling to his knees in a desperate attempt to catch it before realizing Holmes still held it between his thumb and forefinger. "Take it then," he said, dramatically. Watson sighed and snatched the gun from Holmes flimsy grasp, rising to his feet again. With skilled hands he quickly removed the bullets from the revolver despite Holmes' protests.

A gentle knock at the open door stopped them both. Watson at least had forgotten Miss Adler had been downstairs. "Sherlock, I'm sorry..."

"No you're not." Holmes snapped.

"Irene?" An unfamiliar voice drifted up the stairs. "Ah, Irene." A man joined her at the door to the study. "Doctor Watson," the man tilted his head in greeting and Watson gave a flash of a smile in reply.

"And you are?" Holmes growled.

"I'm Edward Davis and..." he laced an arm around Irene's waist, "is the lovely Mrs Davis, but I suppose you already knew that." He smiled around the room at a shell-shocked looking Watson and a furious statue of Holmes.

Irene graced her new husband a tentative smile before glancing worriedly at Holmes. "Sherlock?"

"Leave." Holmes' face was ashen as he scowled at the opposing wall again.

"Sherlock?" Irene questioned again.

"I said LEAVE!" Holmes stood with the force of a hurricane, his face a thundering storm as he glared at the two. Then seemingly spent, he collapsed back into his chair, resuming his visual assault on the opposing wall.

Suddenly no one wished to be in this room with Holmes. "I'll see you out, shall I?" Watson offered.

"That would be kind of you, doctor," Irene gave him a grateful smile and all three turned their backs on the tempest that was Sherlock Holmes.

"I shall see you in six weeks then Mrs Davis," Watson stated.

"Of course." Then the door to the dusky study was closed.

Holmes walked to one of the cluttered desks, snatched up his revolver and began loading it again. 'Mrs Davis.'

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**A/N *sniff* poor Sherlock. Don't worry, he'll get over it eventually. ;)  
I beg for reviews! Pweeeeeze! **


	4. Hurt

**A/N *GASP!* An update! After all this time? Yes it is. Enjoy.**

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Watson snuck in the front door cautiously. Eleven o'clock. His walk had proved longer than he had intended. Dinner with the new Davis's was only an added reason for his tardiness. He hadn't wanted to come back until he was almost sure Holmes would be asleep however his own sleep deprivation now drew him back to 221b. He heard a door open above him and made a point of not looking up at his friend with eyes that betrayed his guilt. There was silence for a few moments then Holmes spoke. "You knew she was married, didn't you?" he accused quietly, trying to conceal the pain that was not physical, that he either did not understand or simply wouldn't admit to, as if it were some weakness.

"Yes," Watson admitted, still scrutinising the floor.

He heard the door close above him. Daring to look up he made the amateur deduction that Holmes was on the other side of it as he was thankfully nowhere to be seen on the landing above him. A breath Watson had not realised he had been holding escaped his lips. His head dropped again, eyes to the floor, his shoulders slumped with the weight of guilt and tiredness. Tomorrow, maybe, would see Holmes in a better mood or maybe just an interesting case to take his mind off the discoveries of the present day. Tomorrow would tell.

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**Please review. :)**


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